Immortality
by Chima
Summary: Orochimaru reflects on time and Sasuke.


Time. There simply wasn't enough time.

Others learned so that they could survive, crammed the barest necessities of knowledge into their brains. Even those with the capacity for more, like Nara, seemed to have no desire to. But Orochimaru needed the knowledge like he needed air. Desired it more than any willing body. Hungered for it more than the most succulent delicacies.

But there just wasn't enough time in a human lifespan to learn it all. It was the only stumbling block; but when he searched for ways to overcome it he was cast out. They couldn't understand the burning need he felt. Couldn't understand why he had forced the bile back down his throat during his experiments enough times it became automatic, until the urge to relive his previous meals ceased completely. He gradually came to enjoy his work, which on some levels disgusted him even more. But the disgust was forgotten every time he came a step closer to immortality, every time some tumbler in the lock of life and death was tripped. With every new jutsu came new power, and one by one his opponents dwindled. And his allies grew, whether through fear or awe.

Kabuto. The boy would do anything for him. Not simply because Orochimaru could bring him bodies for his own experiments, but because he had his own hunger for knowledge and saw the same in Orochimaru's eyes. They understood each other. Respected, even.

The Sound Four. Each had their own reasons for coming to him, but the results were the same. He gave them power, they gave their lives. It was a willing trade, though, unlike many others that had come to him.

Kimimaro. Ahh, Kimimaro. He was even more devoted than Kabuto, because they had no mutual understanding. Kimimaro's deepest desire was to be needed, for someone to have use of him, and Orochimaru did. He would have made an excellent host, even moreso than others because he was not only incredibly powerful, but perfectly willing. He was one of the few things that made Orochimaru honestly want to kill Kabuto. He almost had, too. In his rage at discovering Kabuto had persuaded Kimimaro to defend Sasuke he had torn Kabuto apart, and the only thing preventing him from completely destroying the boy was the one thing he hated most.

Time.

Killing Kabuto would not have turned back time, would not have brought Kimimaro back to life. And the one person who came anywhere near to understanding Orochimaru would be gone, along with all of his knowledge. To destroy knowledge was a worse sin than any Orochimaru could name, and worse than he could bring himself to commit. So he left the boy bleeding on the ground - he hadn't even bothered to fight back, even when he realized Orochimaru had full intent of killing him and his animal survival instincts should have brought him to bear.

For all his strength and knowledge, it took Kabuto one hundred forty-six hours to walk stably again, two hundred thirty-three to become battle-ready, and four hundred-two hours overall to fully recover.

But Kabuto was all but forgiven when Sasuke was finally brought to Orochimaru.

The boy was beautiful.

He wasn't cute, his eyes were too old for that; he wasn't radiant, his darkness was too deep. He wasn't pretty, he wasn't charming, he wasn't elegant, he wasn't a million words for physically attractive. But he was beautiful in a dangerous way, like a freshly sharpened katana, or a snake poised to strike.

While he had remained with Akatsuki, Orochimaru had held conversations with Itachi. Sasuke's beauty had been what saved him when the rest of the clan was annihilated. Itachi had seen him the night before, asleep, hair splayed over his features, dark eyes closed and a smile on his face. Itachi had brushed the hair from his brother's face and looked down on him even as he plotted his family's murder, and knew he wouldn't be able to kill this one. And when Sasuke had run through the Uchiha complex, covered in blood, screaming, Itachi had followed him because of his beauty.

Of course, Itachi had never actually said these things. It had been a silent communication, a silent agreement, with only very slight probings into Itachi's mind and only minor genjutsu in response. Itachi knew Orochimaru would want his brother. But so long as Orochimaru did not spoil the boy's beauty, he didn't care.

Orochimaru loved to tell Sasuke he was beautiful. The first time, Sasuke had been shocked, then suspicious. As it became more regular he no longer showed his reactions on his face, but he never lost his suspicion.

One night, as Sasuke slept, Orochimaru slipped into his room to watch him sleep. Only then did he fully understand why Itachi had spared the boy.

The next night Sasuke entered Orochimaru's quarters. He didn't bother trying to sneak in. "What do you want?" Orochimaru should've been asking the question, but Sasuke had spoken. Orochimaru smiled as if he didn't know what the boy was talking about. He honestly didn't, but knew what had brought him there. "Why did you come into my rooms last night?"

"To watch you sleep," Orochimaru answered simply.

Sasuke's fist slammed into the wall. If it hadn't been made of stone and steel, it would have broken clear through. As it was several flakes of stone crumbled around his hand. He quivered with anger for several moments as Orochimaru examined his nails. He was really watching Sasuke. Did the boy know that his chakra leapt between his fingers in almost-unseeable arcs? That it dripped from his body like burning plasma, in a violet so deep it put the darkest velvets to shame?

Then Sasuke's entire body drooped. His arm fell from the wall and his hair hid his lowered eyes. His chakra calmed. Several seconds passed, and then he was lifting his shirt over his head. Orochimaru frowned very slightly.

"Is this it?" Sasuke asked darkly as he stepped forward. "Is this what you want?" He stopped in front of Orochimaru, and one hand came forward to clench the edge of Orochimaru's robe.

Did he know he was searing and freezing at once? That Orochimaru's eyes and mind burned from simply watching him, as they did if he stared at Amaterasu for too long?

_Twisted Snake._

Those eyes he longed to possess. He lifted Sasuke's face to stare in them, red and dark with hunger for power, and disgust. Fear.

_Pervert._

Sasuke thrust his face forward and latched his lips onto Orochimaru's, desperately, forcing himself forward though his every cell screamed for him to recoil. Rage burned just beneath the surface of his carefully-controlled expression. Surprise, as well, for he had thought Orochimaru's lips would be cold, as he imagined a snake's would be. They were warm. Soft. Human.

_Child molester._

Orochimaru threw him backward so hard that he slammed into the far wall, leaving a deep concavity in the metal before slumping to the floor. When the boy looked up, Orochimaru towered over him, though he had never moved since Sasuke entered the room.

"Out."

"Sensei--" Sasuke whispered, pleading for power and begging to be released.

"OUT!" Orochimaru barely managed to hold himself back from lashing out with his chakra, or one of the many blades hanging or hidden in the room. As it was a tendril of chakra escaped his control and cut a deep furrow into Sasuke's cheek. The boy's beautiful eyes stared wide at him for another instant and then he was gone, dignity and tact forgotten as he scrambled out the door.

The sun rose and set, and with the next moon came a shadow of black and red.

Orochimaru straightened slowly from where he was bent over his work, but didn't turn toward the figure that had appeared silently behind him. To any who looked upon him he would have appeared perfectly calm, but Itachi could see the tension in his muscles. Any who knew him less would have taken it for fear, but Itachi recognized it as barely-contained rage. Toward Sarutobi, toward Tsunade, toward Sasuke, and inward on himself. It rippled and seethed under his violet-painted eyes, his moonlight-pale skin, like a monster searching for a way out and - finding none - throwing itself against the bars of his cage.

He didn't know how much he resembled Naruto holding in the Kyuubi.

Itachi chose not to enlighten him.

"He lives only for you," Orochimaru said to the air before him. Itachi's hand settled itself on his shoulder. Some of the rage subsided, calmed by the cool darkness alongside him. "And I have no desire for it to become any way but as such." Neither moved, but Orochimaru knew that blades were no longer poised to be thrust into his body, that Amaterasu and Tsukiyomi were no longer readied. Silent assent - not quite telepathy of Orochimaru reading the man's mind, not quite the genjutsu Itachi loved so, but that same communication they had used when they had been partners dealing in death years ago.

Orochimaru bent to the table strewn with notes and devices once more, and somewhere inside him something wished the hand had stayed.


End file.
